


the devil went down to georgia

by stanlonbrough



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Multi, actually my bad bev is a demon, bill is a demon hunter, but no one of significance is a demon?, georgie is prolly dead but who knows, im really excited for this fic!, mechanic eddie ;), richie is a dumbass but thats a given, stan is a bird man quite literally, this a demon au, wizard ben and mike but ben doesn't know that yet so shh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-26 05:51:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16675735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanlonbrough/pseuds/stanlonbrough
Summary: Richie Tozier honestly thought striking a deal with a demon to gain magic was a good idea. In his defense, he was running on almost no sleep and a metric shit ton of headache medication so no one can really blame him. It's only when his demon dies and he is forced to either run away or face the consequences of his deal does he realize what this might truly mean for himself, and possibly the rest of the world.





	1. 'Cause hell's broke loose in Georgia and the Devil deals the cards

**Author's Note:**

> This is really my first time actually writing the characters so if they're a little off or it doesn't reaaally seem like them pls let me know so I can fix it!

Richie honestly didn’t want this to happen. 

All he asked for was a little magic so he could impress people on the streets, trying to get them to pity him enough to spare some extra change. It really did work, at least for a couple of years, until he got a dream one night brimming with fire and smoke. A deep voice spoke a warning in his head, sounding like nails on a chalkboard but only if either the nails or the chalkboard were a long time smoker. Richie was rather familiar with that sound. 

In the dream, the voice had said that Richie’s deal was past due. Something incriminating had been brought up against his demon and he had, sadly, been put to death. 

_(Richie wondered how a demon could find anything incriminating, considering how demons didn’t actually even have any morals to begin with)_

But nevertheless, Richie could figure out with the voice had meant by “past due” and he had been on the run ever since. 

Which led to where he was now, sitting in a bar in Atlanta full of Otherworldly creatures dancing their asses off while he tried to drink himself into a stupor. 

He was too busy looking at his almost empty glass of whatever-the-shit that he didn’t notice the figure taking a seat on the stool beside him. The stranger ordered some fancy drink in a thick southern accent and turned to Richie, apropos to nothing, and said,

“You alright? You like dead dogshit right now, hon.”

Richie looked over and immediately supposed this man must be an angel. He had honey blond curls on top of his head, tan skin with faint freckles, and beautiful full lips. 

Richie was apparently so distracted by the mans sheer beauty that the man took it upon himself to wave his hand in front of Richie’s face, effectively capturing his attention once again. He honed in on the man’s hand, which had small black splotches all over it. He trailed his eyes up the man’s arm, finally coming to rest on his face again. 

Richie noticed two things when he looked back up at that gorgeous face. Number one was that the man seemed concerned for Richie, however that was unlikely considering Richie had not said a word to this angel in his life. The second thing being that the man had no eyes. 

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it. He certainly had eyes, but they were pitch black. Almost as if his pupils had dilated and never stopped growing. No sign of whites or his iris or anything. Pitch black. 

The man seemed to notice Richie’s very obvious gawking and spoke up. “You know where you are, correct? You have eyes to look around with if you couldn’t already see the sign outside.” 

The man had a point, his eyes were hardly the most unusual thing he had seen in this bar in the last thirty minutes alone. The man stuck out his hand for Richie to shake. Richie took it cautiously, not quite knowing what the man was or what he could do. 

“My name is Stan. I would watch yourself in a place like this, you never know what could snatch you away.”

Richie finally seemed to find his voice and the first thing that came out of his sad, sad mouth was:

“Holy shit, you have got to be the prettiest thing I have ever seen.”

Richie should’ve made his deal to control his mouth when he needed too. 

Stans cheeks turned a light pink. “Well, you sure know how to make a guy blush, huh? What's your name, hon?”

“Richie,” Richie replied. “And I should probably be sorry about the comment I made, but it sure is true.” Stan winked and Richie grinned, finally finding his footing within the conversation. They talked for what seemed to be several more hours, Richie of course making dumbass jokes and stupid facial expressions, most of which actually seemed to make Stan laugh, which was a win for Richie in his book. Stan himself turned out to be rather funny, in a very unusual way. 

Around 2 in the a.m, Richie could feel himself falling asleep, the alcohol finally working it’s magic. Stan seemed to sense this and quickly glanced around the bar (or, Richie assumed he glanced around. His black eyes didn’t allow for much obvious movement) and said, “I’m pretty sure this place is winding down right about now, nothing will be left except a couple of gorgons and harpys, crowing their heads off about lost love so I think we ought to get out of here.”

Richie nodded, not even thinking about his actions at that point. He stumbled off the stool, almost crashing into Stan as he did the same. Stan put an arm around his waist and grabbed one of Richie’s to put around his shoulders. Together they tumbled out of the bar like a pair of horribly trained three-legged race competitors. 

“So did you get here with a car?” Stan asked. He stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Risky move. Richie gathered his thoughts. Had he come here in a car? He sure as shit got here somehow but he knew his hotel wasn’t very far away so he guessed he walked. “You can just call me ‘n Uber, I’ll be fine from there.” he slurred, wobbling more into Stan’s side. 

Stan did just that, keeping arm around richies waist as he tugged his phone out with one hand. Soon enough a car came up the front of the bar and Stan got the text that the uber was here. They hobbled over to the car and Stan pushed Richie in while also trying to pay the fee to the possibly slightly deaf old lady driver. 

“Tell her the address of your hotel.“ Stan demanded. Richie did so, managing to confuse both Stan and the driver. Eventually the driver just pulled out a crumpled napkin and an old pen for Richie to write it down. Stan thanked the Uber driver and then they were off! To the great unknown! AKA Richie’s hotel that he barely looked at before dumping his shit and heading to the bar. 

In the distance, Richie heard a motorcycle sound and turned in his seat to find, what seemed to be, a motorcycle. Incredible. And maybe is was the alcohol talking, but Richie swore he saw two giant wings protruding from the cyclists back. Richie did not know that angels could ride motorcycles but then again, he never really paid much attention in church to really know what he was talking about when it came to angels, demons, and all that shit.

Richie suddenly felt awfully tired, he had driving all day after all, so he put his botched deal and the motorcyclist angel out of his head and closed his eyes. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beverly truly, honestly, and totally hated her job.

She hated her job so much, in fact, that most of the time, she didn’t even do it! What a wild girl. 

Her job was actually easy too! Watch over the people that Jongradas made deals with and to make sure they don’t stray too far. 

But now that Jongradas was dead, she could do practically anything she wanted to! Unlike the unfortunate humans who struck deals with demons such as her master, she was no longer bound to that son of a bitch piece of shit. 

However, the reason she was still in his office was simple and complicated at the same time. His most recent client had interested her more than the other low-lifes asking for eternal youth and shit like that. He had asked for magic. Magic as a way of making a living. It was cheating but at the same time, he wasn’t outright asking for a beautiful three story mansion at the price of his children and soul. 

Beverly found the file she was looking for named **RICHARD TOZIER** in big bold letters. She felt a certain way for this clever human. He had found practically all the loopholes to ensure his deal worked in his favor. Bev knew the Federal Ferals Force would be after the kid soon enough, not stopping at anything to make sure the client reaches their righteous fate in the eyes of their King. Evading a deal was a crime most definitely punishable by death. 

Beverly turns the lights of the office off and locks the door behind her, file tucked under her arm. She walks to her car slowly, looking carefully around. 

She gets in her car and drives away.


	2. And if you win you'll get this shiny fiddle made of gold,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh but I do know how to help you, hon, and that exactly what I plan to do. I hope you don’t have any friends here, because I’m going to need you to pack a bag.”

Bill Denbrough was always tired these days. 

He hadn’t been this tired since his training days, and even then it’s not the same kind of tired. This is bone deep. It seeps into the cracks and crevices and melts within his veins, becoming a part of him. 

He is very tired. 

But he still carries on. His mission is far from being over and he must continue. He must prevail-

“Bill, Open up! This is important!”

Eddie’s voice rips his attention away from his journal. The loud banging he hears being bestowed upon his poor door must be waking up the neighbors; he quickly gets up and makes his way to open it up. 

“What the hell, Eddie?” Bill questions irritably. He had been comfortable on his bed writing like that! And now here Eddie is. Distracting him. 

“A customer at the auto shop was being a huge fucking dick so I need you to help me find and kill him,” Eddie said this all as he barreled into the room with almost no regard for a very caught off guard Bill, who just barely managed to keep himself upright. Bill hummed his consent to this plan, knowing that Eddie would stop at nothing to get his “revenge”. 

Eddie flopped himself down onto Bill’s couch and pulled one of the throw pillows into his lap. He buried his face into and screams so loud it was painful to Bill’s vocal cords. Bill is suddenly very thankful for his pillows. 

So Eddie started to rant. He ranted on and on and fucking on to Bill about this dumbass customer that Bill started to wonder if there was something else going on. So he asked, opening a whole new can of worms and also hoping to distract Eddie from his annoying customer. “Are you ok?” Bill interrupted. “Because you seem… I don’t know, more on edge today?” 

Eddie sighed, “I don’t really know, Bill. Call me stupid or naive but something in the air doesn’t feel right. It feels like something bad is going to happen either now or soon enough.” He ran his finger through his hair, nose scrunching up from his admission. In truth, he couldn’t fully explain it. He just didn’t feel safe anymore. That feeling had been there for a while now.

Bill had...no idea what to do with that information. But he thought about it for a good long while. He thought about it through the movie that Eddie put on to take his mind off things. He thought about it through lunch and their walk to the library. He almost walked into at least 5 poles. 

They had almost no ties to this small, bumfuck town, save for that nice grocery lady. Bill knew he himself was tired of the washed out grays, and Eddie had admitted, albeit a scarce few times, that he felt the same. Bill had become a Hunter in hopes to not only complete his mission but also to see the world. He wanted to travel and paint the sights he saw. He wanted to sit and write on grassy hills when the sky was drenched in gold. Bill was getting poetic again. 

When they finally reached Bill’s apartment at the end of their day, Bill decided to tell Eddie his idea.

“Hey Eddie?” Eddie hummed. “How do you feel about going on a road trip?”

Eddie immediately spit out his drink. He seemed to understand the implications of “roadtrip” and Bill was grateful that he wouldn’t have to explain that part. “A road trip?!”, Eddie screeched, “To fucking where, Bill? We have almost no money and what we have is certainly not enough to leave with! We have places here! I’m making friends with my coworkers! What about that nice grocery lady, Emily?” Bill tried to placate Eddie, holding up his hands in defense. “I don’t know about those parts yet. But what I do know is that we’re both tired of this to-”

“Enough about being tired of this place, Bill!” There was almost no stopping Eddie now. He didn’t even know why he was so adamant about staying here. “I want to settle down somewhere! Meet some nice, new people!” We just got to this town practically five months ago and there is no way that is enough time to decide that we now want to leave!”

“Eddie have told you that I don’t want to stay here longer. I’m getting restless in this place. We came here with a clue but then that turned to dust so what are we still doing here? We are this close to finding him.” Bill held up two pinched fingers. Eddie rolled his eyes. “I have told you that I want to leave here. I am going to be doing just that either with or without you.” Eddie looked close to tears but Bill was on a roll. He was almost manic now, suddenly, with the need to get out. To leave. He felt a wild rush through his body, giving some strange, jittery jump to his step. They got his door and Bill swung the door open, almost knocking Eddie off his feet. 

“I’m not going to force you into anything, but I have a feeling you would regret it if you stayed here.” And with his that, Bill brushed past Eddie and closed the door to his room.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------

Richie was sure he had never felt such horrible, terrible pain before ever in his life.

His head pounded, his mouth felt dry and disgusting, and everything was too bright for his eyes. He groaned loudly.

He screwed his eyes shut and reached over to blindly flail around, hoping to find his glasses. It didn’t work. He groaned again, slowly heaving himself up to sit, back slouched. He took several deep breaths and finally worked up the gumption to stand up.

Shuffling his way into the kitchen, he yawned and with squinted eyes, and managed to locate his damn glasses. He stuffed them onto his face and the world was suddenly clear. He stumbled backwards. 

As he began to make his coffee and reheat his old pizza, he noticed the black ink on his hand. Hoping it was a dick or something shitty like that, he read the words, only to be disappointed.

If you see this, call me. -Stan  
407-776-6967

Nice, Richie thought to himself. He grabbed his phone from the counter and sat down while the pizza heated up. He found his contact app and put the information in, wondering what nickname he should use. He eventually settled on Stan the Man ;))).

His pizza dinged and as he ate we questioned to himself whether he should actually call or just shoot Stan a text. He settled on calling, remembering how Stan seemed to be a stickler for somethings based on at least how he dressed. They were at a bar for god's sake, no need for fucking chinos.

Stan picked up on the third ring. “Goddamn, who the hell is calling me while I’m at work?”

Richie was not deterred by the annoyed voice. “Stan the man! Hello! Why did you need me to call you back?” Stan groaned on the other side. Richie grinned, shoving more pizza in his mouth.

“I needed you to call me back because you’re in danger.”

Richie choked on his pizza. “Are you positive?” There was no way Stan already knew about his little problem! For how generally open Richie was, he was not one to share secrets, especially while drunk, especially to strangers. “Yes, Richie. I could practically smell the Deal on you, how no one else at that bar noticed it, I have no idea. Walking around like that is practically asking to get jumped by the FFF!” 

Richie had no idea what the fuck the FFF were, but the way Stan said it made him definitely want to never encounter them. He began to whisper, even though no one else was in his apartment. “Look man, unless you have a way to help me, I don’t want to talk to you about my Deal, okay? I know better than anyone else what I did.” Richie could practically hear the smirk through the phone when Stan next spoke.

“Oh but I do know how to help you, hon, and that exactly what I plan to do. I hope you don’t have any friends here, because I’m going to need you to pack a bag.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

It was night now, and Bill Denbrough was loading up the last of his bags. He and Eddie had not spoken for the rest of the day Eddie headed right home after the argument and no calls or texts had been made. He hoped Eddie was okay, he had a tendency to take long walks when he was upset and the people here weren’t exactly friendly. Another reason to leave.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he whirled around, yanking the knife he always had from it’s holder. 

“You can chill out, Bill, it’s just me,” Eddie’s voice was soft, almost tentative. “I, uh, thought about what you said earlier and…” He trailed off and in the light of the streetlamp, Bill could see a single but well packed bag. 

“I’m going with you. Someone needs to make sure you don’t die because lord knows you don’t know how to take care of yourself.”

Bill grinned, his throat closing up. “What about your shitty customer? Not going to stay and get your revenge?”. Eddie chuckled, “No, Bill, that’s not important anymore,”. Eddie had been his closest friend for years, he had no idea what he would do or where he would be without him. Eddie smiled back, toothy and full of life.

They packed up his bag, started the car, and drove off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love when the italics don't work :'')))  
> Anyway tell me what you think over on my tumblr! @stanlonbrough  
> the chapter titles have nothing to do with the chapter except for the first one, im just taking lyrics from the song lol  
> also how do i get rid of the previous chapters notes from underneath here?? someone help??

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm super excited for this fic and i'm also hoping the chapters will get longer but writing is hard and I really wanted to post this as soon as I could. Aestheticdenbrough beta'd this for me so thank you!! Go read his stuff too!
> 
> Also! fun fact! when coming up with a better name for the demon police other than 'demon police' logan suggested using something that began with 3 f's which is the sixth letter of the alphabet so it would be like 666, hence the federal ferals force which basically just pick up rogue humans to ensure the deal is closed and the human gets what it should deserve


End file.
